Watching the hands
on a clock spinning like water,
as i wait for him to find me
in a forest of trees
with branches and branches of thorns.
The roses has grown tired of their beds
and shifted into the light of the day
where they can breath and be free.
I've joined them on occasion
but always felt unwanted in their presence.
What's it like to bask in the sun of
narsiccism?
To feel like you ae the epitome of
of the greek mythical man
obsessed with his face and physical incarnation
so much that it killed him?
I don't want to find out.
To love one's self is great,
but to be loved by someone else is greater.
And no one loves a complete Narsiccistic
Asshole.
I Hope you're happy,
Cause you're late,
And i'm done waiting.

SamhainPrincess-- excellent as always

Thank you.

I Love freeformin'

It makes me happy. :)